


it only took a lifetime, and then some

by braezenkitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Coda, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Fix-It, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Post-Finale, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, because the writers and dabb screwed the pooch real bad, like ignore them for 40 years bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/pseuds/braezenkitty
Summary: Sam did not suffer through a mediocre life on earth, just to arrive in heaven and have to deal with the same old bullshit from Dean and Cas. It's time for him and Dean to have a talk.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 185
Collections: SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	it only took a lifetime, and then some

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fix-it/coda fic for Supernatural's episode 15x20. I wanted to just say it didn't exist, but my mind doesn't work that way and I couldn't forget and couldn't stop trying to integrate it into my view of the show as a whole... which was akin to trying to force a square peg into a round hole. And then I woke up this morning with Dean trying to explain things in my head, and I knew I had to write this. It's short, and doesn't even begin to address the many flaws in the final episodes of the show, but it made me feel a little better about the ending we got, and I hope it can do the same for others.
> 
> The author is fucking dead, and these characters belong to US now. We get to finish or continue their story however we want, and make it however gay we want.

Dean let go of Sam, stepping back to look him over. “You look like you haven’t aged a day,” he said, brow furrowing slightly. “You didn’t do something stupid and die right after me, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Sam said, frowning. He looked down at himself, held out his hands and examined them for the age spots that should’ve been visible. “That’s weird. I was an old man when I died. Maybe the appearance you take on in heaven is based on how the first person you reunite with sees you?”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed, still not quite convinced Sam didn’t go off and get himself killed right after him.

“I had a full life, Dean, promise,” Sam said, putting on that earnest puppy dog look he’d always been so good at. “Had a wife, a kid, white picket fence, all that bullshit you wanted for me.”

Dean frowned. “All that ‘bullshit’? What about what you wanted for yourself? Did you end up marrying Eileen?”

Sam’s face closed off as he looked out over the river flowing underneath the bridge where they stood. “She didn’t—uh,  _ couldn’t _ —give up hunting. Said it was her responsibility to keep people safe, you know? And I understood, but um, I couldn’t live like that anymore. I promised you I wouldn’t live like that anymore.”

“Sammy,” Dean said, a concerned frown on his face, “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a quick smile, “I know. And I was, mostly. I tried my best. I just—things were never really the same without you, and without Cas. You guys dying so close together, never getting to experience the life we fought for… my world just wasn’t the same without you two. It never felt right that I should be the happy one when you two sacrificed so much.”

Dean ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the water churn, then Dean shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Cas is gonna be pissed when he finds out I died right after him and you were never really happy.”

“Wait, what? Cas is alive?” Sam said in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, “apparently he helped Jack revamp heaven.”

Sam frowned. “Apparently? You don’t know for sure?”

“That’s what Bobby said anyway,” Dean said with a shrug.

Sam shook his head and squinted at Dean, while Dean stared out at the water and pretended not to notice the look. “You didn’t talk to him yourself?”

“Nah, I’ve just been driving,” Dean said, looking up at the clear blue sky and refusing to admit it reminded him of Cas’ eyes. “Figured I’d see him when I see him.”

Sam laughed in disbelief. “Okay. Well where is he now?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Probably off gallivanting in the ether with Jack. Or whatever it is celestial beings do for fun.”

Sam’s face screwed up in confusion, contorted into disbelief again for a moment, then settled on anger. Dean winced inwardly; that was a serious bitch face.

“So let me get this straight,” Sam started, putting a hand on his hip and holding the other up to stop Dean from responding until he finished the rant Dean had no doubt was about to be unleashed. “Cas, your best friend, the guy who literally gave himself over to The Empty, with full knowledge that he’d probably be tortured for all eternity, just to save you… you found out he’s alive, and you haven’t tried to find him? At all? Not even to say ‘thank you’? Nothing?”

Dean shrugged again. “Yeah, well the guy’s busy dealing with heaven stuff now probably, I didn’t wanna bug him.” Didn’t want to face him, more like, but Dean wasn’t going to admit that out loud. He just needed a bit more time to process Cas’ dying words, which he’d never told Sam. There was no way Sam would understand.

“‘Didn’t want to bug him’,” Sam repeated, staring blankly into the middle distance. He ran a hand through his hair and turned away. “I can’t fucking believe you, Dean.”

“What the hell, Sam? You just got here and you’re already gonna start lecturing me?”

“Yes, Dean. I am,” Sam said, turning back around and fixing Dean with a look that made him stagger back a step. “You know what? I’m done. I’m done holding my tongue and being a silent observer while you and Cas dance around your feelings for each other, relegating yourselves to constant eye fucking and the occasional soft touch when one of you is dying. Well newsflash, you’re fucking dead now and you never had the happiness you could have, and should have had while you were alive, because you were too fucking scared to take a chance.”

“Sam, we don’t—”

“No, Dean. It’s time for you to shut up and listen. I played third wheel to your fucked up sub-textual romance with Cas for  _ years _ . Did you think I was blind? That I wouldn’t notice how you lit up whenever he walked into a room? Or how he had a special smile only for you? How you both repeatedly tried to sacrifice yourselves for each other? Or how you grieved like you lost the love of your life every time you thought he was gone for good?”

“He wasn’t—”

Sam tilted his head and eyed Dean, almost seeming to dare him to continue that sentence. Dean didn’t.

“Let me guess,” Sam said, straightening up and putting both hands on his hips, “he said something or did something right before he died that has you freaking out because your repressed ass doesn’t know how to deal with feelings. What, did he confess his love for you or something?”

Dean scoffed. 

Sam waited.

Dean squirmed.

Recognition dawned over Sam’s face. “Oh my fucking god,” he said, dropping his hands as his mouth fell open. “He did, didn’t he. He fucking did it.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and focused on the road beneath his feet. “It’s not a big deal, okay?” he mumbled.

Sam scoffed, ran a hand through his hair and spun in a half circle away from Dean. “I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this. All those years, watching, waiting, hoping you two would get your shit together, and  _ finally _ one of you does… but the other is still too scared to even acknowledge it.” Sam shook his head and looked up at the sky, threw his hands up and yelled, “Have I not suffered enough?”

“Oh, come on,” Dean scoffed, “quit being so dramatic.”

Sam turned on him. “What did he say?  _ Exactly _ ?”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing really, just that he… well, you know.”

“You can’t even say it. This is amazing. You are the most repressed idiot I have ever met in my life. Come on Dean, what the fuck did he say?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. He wished he had a beer, and as that thought crossed his mind the old green Coleman appeared at his feet. He huffed a laugh and bent down to flip the lid open and grab a couple cold ones. He handed one to Sam and popped his open as he walked over to the bridge railing, taking a long sip before leaning on the wooden beam and watching the water flow past.

Sam sighed and popped his beer open, taking a sip as he came to stand next to Dean. “So?”

“He said…” Dean cleared his throat, took a sip of beer to help swallow down the lump that had appeared there. “He said um, that he uh… he loved me.” The words barely made it out of his choked up throat. He remembered the look on Cas’ face when he’d said those words, how earnest he was, how forcefully he’d said them so Dean couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard, couldn’t try to deny them.

“And?”

Dean huffed a laugh, took a sip of his beer and looked out at the trees surrounding this little slice of heaven. “Basically that he’d been in love with me since the moment he’d laid a hand on me in hell. That I taught him what love even was.”

Sam let loose a long breath and rubbed his face. “Oh wow, so it was a  _ love confession _ love confession.”

Dean side-eyed Sam.

“No wonder you couldn’t deal with it.”

“I dealt with it fine, Sam,” Dean said through clenched teeth, sipping his beer angrily.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Yeah, if by ‘dealt with it’ you mean actively repressed it and avoided ever facing Cas again.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sipped his beer. “I just needed some time to process. Figure out my feelings, you know? Am I not allowed to have that?”

“Well, yeah, of course, Dean. But you’ve been here what, 40 years by now? You found out Cas was alive and you had a chance to at least thank him for his sacrifice, maybe give the guy a hug and let him know you’re not completely ignoring his confession—which, by the way, must have taken balls the size of—”

“The Chrysler building?” Dean interrupted with a smirk.

Sam side-eyed him, “I was going to say Texas, but sure, we’ll go with that horribly phallic image.”

“Meant the width, not the length.”

“Yeah, okay, anyway,” Sam replied, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Moving on from that nightmare-inducing image. So Cas puts everything on the line, makes himself completely vulnerable in front of you, and you respond by going for a 40 year long drive and completely avoiding him that entire time?”

Dean shrugged. “Sounds pretty bad when you put it that way.”

“Yeah, Dean, because it is bad,” Sam said, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

“Yeah, well, he’s the one who dropped that bombshell on me and then fucking died right in front of me. Can you blame me for being traumatized and needing some time to process?” Dean said. “And— _ and _ ... he got to drop that bombshell on me and then completely avoid the fallout. Never had to deal with my response, or my feelings. Just fucking left me on the floor of that stupid dungeon all by myself. Why didn’t he tell me this shit years ago, when we could have done something about it? Huh? Riddle me that, Batman.”

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? Have you met you? You are the single most repressed individual I have ever known, followed only by Castiel himself, and  _ then _ Batman. Fuck,” Sam said, straightening up from where he’d been leaning on the bridge railing. “I mean, towards the end of your life I was starting to see signs that your walls were breaking down, that you were finally starting to accept yourself and your feelings. But up until that last year or so, with the persona you put on, I’m not at all surprised Cas waited until the literal end to say anything. What would you have done if he had told you earlier, when you could’ve done something about it? I mean hell, you’re in heaven where none of that macho posturing and toxic masculinity makes any difference to anyone, and you still avoided him for 40 fucking years!”

Dean let loose a dejected laugh. “You know dad’s here, right?”

“Who cares, Dean? Who the fuck cares what John Winchester has to say about who you love?”

“I just don’t want to be judged.”

“So you’re going to let dad’s homophobia stop you from admitting you’re in love with Cas, who’s not even really male, just happens to inhabit a male vessel while on earth?”

“I’m not—”

Sam raised an eyebrow and fixed Dean with a look that made the words die on his tongue. “Don’t lie to me Dean, not now, not anymore. And most of all, stop lying to yourself.”

Dean sighed and tipped his head back to down the rest of his beer.

“I know you love him,” Sam said softly. “And in case it’s not already crystal clear, I would never judge you for that. I watched you two fall in love, and I watched you two dance around that fact for  _ years _ .”

Dean stared at the empty beer bottle in his hands. “What if I do and it doesn’t matter? What if he’s back to Castiel version 1.0 now that he’s helping Jack run things up here? What if he doesn’t feel the same anymore?”

“You can’t live based on what-if’s, Dean.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “What even is living when you’re in heaven anyway, nothing really matters here.”

“Dean, your boyfriend is an  _ angel _ . You think he can’t figure out a way for you two to have a life together, or okay, maybe more accurately an ‘after-life’ together? Neither one of you has ever been good at following rules or the ‘Grand Plan’, anyway.”

“Nope,” Dean said with a small smile, “we like to make it up as we go.”

“So why not take a chance, start making your own story.”

Dean smiled down at his feet, then glanced over at Sam and gave his shoulder a squeeze and a pat. “Yeah, okay… maybe you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right,” Sam said with a smirk. “Technically I’m the older brother now, so I get to give out the life advice. Now, I’m going to go find out what happened to Eileen and do some confessing of my own if she’s here. I’ll catch up with you guys at the Roadhouse later. Good luck!” he yelled over his shoulder as he walked towards a shiny red, newer model Pontiac GTO—the model that had been inspired by the classic lines of the earliest models, but updated to incorporate all the good things that had been developed over the years in between. Dean smiled as he watched Sam go off in search of his happiness.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve a brother like Sam, but he was grateful. And he vowed to himself to take Sammy’s advice and finally start being honest with himself. Starting with his feelings about Cas.

Dean felt a whoosh and heard the sound of ruffling feathers behind him. He turned to find Cas standing in the middle of the bridge. He looked like himself, like the Cas that Dean knew, and—he was finally able to admit it—loved, on earth. He was gorgeous and Dean felt a mixture of joy and apprehension bubble up in his chest. Those eyes, so blue, and so filled with love and tears the last time he’d seen them, looked back at him with a calm, steady gaze.

And then Cas smiled that small smile that had always only been for Dean, and Dean finally recognized it for what it was and couldn’t help smiling back. “Hey, Cas,” he said, his voice rough with sudden tears.

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
